This morning I decided to go for a run downtown, to break the monotony of my latest neighborhood runs. While on my run, I tripped pretty suddenly, and to my shock I went flyyyyyyying and landed pretty ungraciously with what can only be described as a heavy thud, and well....It hurt. A lot.
I was fervently praying that nobody saw me, cause I gotta tell ya...it FELT like one of those falls where you just can't believe how BADLY someone can truly fall. Like one of those BAD America's Funniest Home videos my boys and I can't even laugh at because we feel SO bad for the poor soul who just bit it so hard.
My pride was hurt, my clothes got dirt on them, and it was painful. Then...just like in life, I had to decide if I was going to keep running. So I laid there for a second, caught my breath, got back up, dusted off the dirt, and prayed that if someone DID see, they could also see that I got back up, and kept on running.
I'd love to tell you that's always been my attitude but truth is most of my life I would have gone back to my car, licked my wounds, felt sorry for myself, and then I would have driven home in shame and defeat.
You never know where your next life metaphor will come from...sometimes it comes at you while you're laying on the sidewalk wondering WHAT the heck just happened, pride and ribs bruised. Then truth washes over you and you tell yourself: "Hey, you're not who you used to be, now get up, and let's keep running."